Silent as the Grave
by Lunalelle
Summary: Story of the cursed Smythe quads, and in particular, mute little Heather, who finds herself tangled in a mess far greater than her silence can hold on its own.


**Title:** Silent as the Grave (01)  
**Author name:** Lunalelle  
**Author email:**  
**Category:** Angst  
**Sub Category:** Drama  
**Keywords:** Heather Smythe Lockhart Snape  
**Rating:** R  
**Spoilers:** SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF, FB, QTTA, OoTP  
**Summary:** The Smythe family has finally recovered from the attack that permanently cursed four quadruplets, leaving one totally mute. The quads come to Hogwarts for their fifth year after four years of tutors and integrate themselves into normal magical life despite their handicaps. However, the silent one still holds her secrets... Takes place in Harry's Second Year. AU--Gilderoy Lockhart/OFC. Dark at times.  
**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
**Author notes:** This is not another Weasley family. I don't have a beta, and considering the inconvenience of just posting because the computer I type on doesn't connect to Internet and the computer that does have the Internet doesn't take discs... it's a vicious circle.  
  
This is a different kind of writing for me. It's a bit more light-hearted, though it does get dark in some places, and it's family-oriented. Tell me what you think, and I mean really think. One and two-liners are okay, but whenever I get them, I worry I am not doing something right.

"No, Headmaster," Snape said abruptly in the middle of the office. Many of the professors had come for an unscheduled meeting, and most of them were looking at Snape disapprovingly. "It's utterly impossible."

"Not impossible," squeaked Professor Flitwick sagely. "Just difficult. And she seems to get along just fine with her family and her tutor."

"She rarely uses the same method of communication for long periods of time," Snape said. "She won't use an established sign language, she can't use a wand...."

"But she knows the spells phonetically, her tutor made sure of that," Flitwick interrupted.

Snape rolled his eyes. "You and I both know, Filius, that knowing what a spell sounds like and being able to cast a spell are two different things. She can't use a wand. You of all people should be fighting against her acceptance to this institution. She is severely limited in her capabilities within your classroom. The only reason you advocate her admission is because of Diana."

"And you should be sullenly indifferent to her acceptance," Professor McGonagall interjected curtly. "Your class does not require speech at all."

"And she can use magic, Severus," Dumbledore said, finally speaking up. "Her tutor says that she has strong, volatile, and frustrated bouts of accidental magic. Her abilities automatically allow her into Hogwarts. You can protest all you like, Severus, but she's coming."

"The fact remains that her entire situation makes learning magic impossible and impractical."

Dumbledore smiled gently, "Many of the greatest accomplishments in this world were once claimed to be impossible."

"That is because they were done by impossible and impractical people." Snape turned away from Dumbledore as if that settled the matter and sat in one of the surprisingly vacant armchairs, sweeping the sleeves of his robes aside.

"She can communicate, Severus," Flitwick insisted. "Her tutor tells us she writes the most eloquent and insightful essays."

"Let her join the Roman Forum then," Snape said obstinately.

"You're being unduly unfair, Severus," McGonagall added.

Snape raised an eyebrow.

McGonagall shook her head. "But then, when have you been anything else?"

"She can still learn magic, Severus," Dumbledore said. "Magic does not always have to come from a wand."

"It takes a tremendous amount of power for wandless magic, Headmaster," Snape said dismissively, closing his eyes and steepling his fingers.

"You were never one for false modesty," Dumbledore murmured. "There are plenty of signs that she is capable of learning the method, and she has so much need for it as well."

"I know what you are thinking of, and the answer is still 'no.' Do you have any idea, any of you, how dangerous rudimentary wandless magic is?" Snape snapped irritably. "The Dark Lord taught it to me because it did not matter who I hurt during the process. But here, we are in a school full of children with parents who will hardly like the fact a crippled mute has to learn potentially fatal wandless magic."

"Take 'er to the Forbidden Forest," Hagrid suggested from the back of the room. "Plen'y o' room, no students, perfect. Ah know some good clearins."

"But what of me?" Snape said. "If the magic, already volatile as you have informed me, is vengeful, it will target me."

Flitwick gave a quick laugh and covered his mouth. "Pardon me... most inappropriate thought, most inappropriate..."

That started some of the other professors giggling.

Snape massaged his temples. "Don't think I don't know what you were insinuating."

"Severus, it's just a joke," Sprout said from another armchair, smothering another chuckle.

"I'm not laughing."

"Severus," Dumbledore said softly in a way he knew would slip through Snape's stubbornness, "at least give it some thought after you meet the girl. She's coming in a few minutes."

Snape's head snapped up. "So that was the ultimate objective of the meeting? To meet _her_?"

"Well, her and her family," Dumbledore said mildly. "Diana needs to speak with Poppy about the four handicaps, the quadruplets need to adjust to the new situation, and she refused to leave the other children behind."

"All of them," McGonagall muttered weakly. "All together they can be one gigantic headache. Severus?"

"If you get one, I'll give you my headache remedy."

"Better get used to potions, then, Minerva," Sinistra said from the floor. She was straighter than McGonagall. The only one more ramrod was Hooch. "Just because they campaign House equality and are generally taunted by the Daily Prophet for it doesn't mean they are a model family. I'm an old friend of Diana's, and you might even like one of the younger girls, Severus. She's quite a fetching little thing, not just in appearance."

Snape closed his eyes again. "Thank you, Elvira, I'll keep that well in mind."

"So what's your verdict, Severus?" Dumbledore said with a smile.

"Do I have a choice?"

The Headmaster shook his head. "Very good. They'll be here shortly."

The Headmaster's office door opened. Lockhart stepped through and shut the door in a flurry of powder blue robes. "Excellent, what did I miss? I was putting my office in order."

"Absolutely nothing," McGonagall answered shortly.

"Why all the long faces? Has there been an argument on the arrival of the Smythes? I think it's charming, the entire family here. I remember Diana." Lockhart said, sweeping his way near to the hearth.

"Probably bedded her, too," Snape murmured.

"Severus!" McGonagall hissed disapprovingly, but it was no real secret that as a young woman, Diana had been rather promiscuous around the school. How Snape knew about it was left to the imagination. Diana was in her late forties.

"I find it amazing that we'll have her mute daughter here. How charitable of you, Albus," Lockhart said, clearing acting as though it had all been his idea to begin with instead of a witch's natural course.

Dumbledore nodded silently in response. Lockhart should have seen the cue to be quiet, but he missed the expressions of annoyance on the rest of the professors' faces and continued his monologue.

"Isn't it intriguing, though, teaching someone like that. And quadruplets, all suffering from a curse! That's a story for the books! A remarkable example of survival."

Snape muttered under his breath, "I'm sure you're thinking of how you saved them from sudden death even now."

McGonagall had to smother a snort of mirth, but she chastised Snape, "She's a competent Healer, though. One of the best midwives in the ward." Snape gave a slight lift of his shoulder that might have been agreement.

"How exciting, isn't it?" Lockhart pressed on, unaware of any interruptions.

"Thrilling," Snape said in his normal, surly voice.

"Come now, Severus, surely you're not against their coming here."

"Surely," Severus repeated mockingly.

"That's enough," Dumbledore said, holding out a hand for peace.

But Lockhart continued heedlessly, "I love big families. In one of the villages I rescued from werewolves, there was a woman who brought out all twenty-one of her children to thank me. Delightful little ones, too. Some of them weren't very little, though, by that time they were adult as well, living in the same small house. I wanted to give them money, but alas, I was swept away by the crowds."

Flitwick hid a yawn, and Hagrid coughed. Several of the other teachers had completely stopped listening. Even Dumbledore was avidly watching the fire rather than fixing his gaze upon Lockhart, which he usually did when another person was speaking.

"Ah," Dumbledore said softly, "they are coming."

The fire had turned bright green from the Floo connection, and an outline appeared. Then the fire spewed out two young people, both in wizarding robes, which indicated graduation from Hogwarts. They still wore their Hogwarts traveling cloaks.

"Ah, Daphne," Flitwick chirped in excitement, jumping down from the desk and hugging the young woman around her legs. Daphne gave a thin smile, the extent of her expressed joy at any time. Her demeanor strongly reminded any professor of Hooch. Daphne held herself in a rigid posture, straight as a pole and just as thin. The set of her mouth and eyes exhibited a no-nonsense nature few at her age possessed. She had always been a studious pupil, following rules to the letter, and living an almost Puritanical life: if it was fun, it was not right. She had taken a boyfriend during one year and hated it. She was independent and focused to an almost dangerous extreme. She had always gotten along well with the most reticent and strictest professors, with whom she had not needed to endear herself. However, she had loved Ravenclaw, and her smiles frequented her old common room and graced themselves upon her old Head of House. She was three years out of Hogwarts and was pursuing a profession in International Relations. Her efficiency and concentration would benefit the department. It had been lax lately.

The boy accompanying her had just graduated from Hogwarts from Gryffindor House. His name was Bryan, and he was a bit more genial than his older sister, though whether his more jocular personality was an asset or a liability to his future remained to be seen. He was notorious for his bad jokes.

"Hoggywarts hasn't changed a whole lot yet, has it?" Bryan said, running a hand through his longish light brown hair that was starting to get shaggy.

"What did you expect?" Daphne asked. "Vines covering the windows and moss on the floors?"

"Something like that," Bryan replied. "Hallo, who are you?" The latter question was directed to Gilderoy Lockhart. "Wait, you look familiar." Lockhart flashed his rakish grin in an attempt to spark recognition. "Yes, I know those teeth. Toothpaste advertisement, no, toothbrush advertisement... no? How about--?"

"Cut the bad guesses," Daphne interjected impatiently. "He's Gilderoy Lockhart. Pleased to meet you." Daphne held out her hand, bedecked by one sapphire ring on the ring finger, and Lockhart took it after a bit of hesitation. He was unused to woman not at least smiling at his approach, especially pretty young women like Daphne. Snape smiled inwardly. He would get nothing but ice from this lady. She turned to Professor Dumbledore. "Mother, Buffy, and Gigi are coming next."

McGonagall mouthed the names 'Buffy and Gigi' incredulously.

The fire glowed green again and three more figures stumbled out of the hearth. Two were tiny little female creatures with great big blue eyes and thin blond hair. One of them fell on their knees and burst into tears, causing many of the professors to flinch at the high-pitched squeal. The other looked around curiously. She had an archipelago of pink-colored birthmarks up her face, a startling difference from her twin, who merely had a spot of the same color between her eyes. The woman gathered up the one with the smaller birthmark and set her against her hips. The curve of her belly revealed her pregnancy. That she managed to pick up a five year old child while with child amazed even Snape, though a woman who had borne nine children had to be resourceful with little ones.

"Now, Gigi, you know better than that. I see no tears in those eyes," Diana chided, brushing back Gigi's hair.

Gigi screwed up her eyes trying to squeeze tears out. She did not succeed and merely hiccoughed, then giggled.

"Meet the teachers at Hogwarts, Buffy, Gigi," Diana said, turning around so that they were looking at all the inquisitive eyes. At the sight of the cheerful countenance that was Albus Dumbledore, Gigi began getting restless. Diana let her down, and Gigi and Buffy rushed to the Santa Claus-like man. Dumbledore knelt down and gave them a great hug, laughing in delight.

"Charming, charming," Dumbledore said with a smile that made him look twenty years younger. "Are they yours? I never received any invitation to the birth blessings."

"No," Diana replied, crossing her arms and leaning against the hearth. "They're my sister's actually. She and her husband have been going through some difficulties, but they don't want to separate. Preserve the bloodline and all. Anyway, they've let me take care of them while the settle their conflict."

"How long have you had them?" Dumbledore asked.

Diana gave him a dark, weary glare. "Two years."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows in disapproval, but wisely said nothing, letting the children pull good-naturedly on his long beard.

"When are the rest coming, Diana?" Lockhart asked, stepping forward.

Diana turned around and squinted before taking out a pair of glasses. When she looked up, she squealed in happiness.

"Gilderoy!" She ran to Lockhart and threw her arms around him. Chuckling, Lockhart embraced her and lifted her in a circle until she collapsed to the ground in giggles. Her thick dark blond hair fell around her face and veiled her bright blue eyes. She pushed it away, gasping for breath and looking for all the world as though she had met an old friend or lover. McGonagall and Snape exchanged baffled glances.

"Did you heal all right, Gilderoy?" Diana asked in concern, standing up with Lockhart's aid. "The banshee's claws went deep, and I wish I could have stayed longer to. . . but I was called away. Did Aideen do a good job?"

Lockhart undid the top two buttons of his vest and shirt and revealed a deep puckered scar. "Had you been tending to me, I'm sure there wouldn't have been anything to remind me of that banshee. I've missed you."

Snape suppressed a snort of disgust. Though Diana Smythe certainly bore the toll of so many births in the slight sag of her breasts and her rounded hips, she still had something that made many men just want to eat her up like candy. Snape, fortunately, was not subject to this desire, but apparently Lockhart was.

"We'll have to catch up while I'm here," Diana assured Lockhart, and she put a hand on Lockhart's shoulder. "But I want you all to meet the rest of my children. Looks like Corwin, Gypsy, and Gwyneth are coming." For the fire had blazed green once again and a boy with his two younger sisters plunged through the hearth opening. Snape knew both the boy and one of the girls—they were part of Slytherin House—but the latter was unfamiliar to him.

"Professor Snape," the girl called in something that could only be called happiness. "To imagine I'd be here early enough to have you all to myself." Gypsy's wheat-blond hair curled down her back in a beautiful waterfall of silk, and though she was only in her second year at Hogwarts, almost everyone in Slytherin loved her. She had a certain way of widening her dark blue eyes and manipulating her mouth into a pout to become rather persuasive. She also had a sort of blindness, as many of the staff enjoyed saying, because she was the only student in the school who would even come close to being perfectly comfortable in Snape's presence. She demonstrated by running to her Head and kissing him soundly on the cheek. Her methods of appeal, unlike Diana's, actually had extended to Snape, which was why he did not pull away in surprise, but gave her what was considered a smile and patted her head.

The boy, however, did not receive the same treatment. Corwin, an arrogant, sullen brat that reminded Snape too much of himself at that age, was thankfully in his last year. In Corwin's first year, he had managed to curse every single upperclassmen, even the girls, when they mocked him for his heritage and devout, unwavering loyalty to his family. Snape could not say that the cold, curly blond haired and icy blue eyed boy did not have the same loyalty to his House, but that loyalty ran to an extreme that would have been far more at home in Hufflepuff had not Corwin's disposition landed him in Slytherin. Because Snape and Corwin had such similar personalities, it was only reasonable they would never get along. Snape did not hate the boy, but he certainly did not like him, and treated him like he was of another House rather than in Slytherin.

Gypsy beckoned to the little girl of about eight or nine years old. The girl resembled Gypsy in form and the color of her eyes, and though the girl had ringlets, they were a dark brown that was not found anywhere else in the family. This little girl, Gwyneth, was as unusual and solemn as she was statuesque even at her young age. Her face was drawn and pale, revealing a depth of character and creativity rarely found in any human. Her eyes seemed to look just beyond a person, but also within. She was an unsettling creature who had a very tenuous grasp on reality, but just when you thought she had broken away, her vision snapped back to stare you straight in the eye as though she did nothing but contemplate the next meal or lesson rather than other worlds. Then she would slip away again, and you would wonder whether the previous look had been there at all. Snape felt this profundity of mind with a sense of intrigue. He hoped she was in Ravenclaw.

Gwyneth stared straight into Dumbledore's eyes, even as he entertained the two littlest ones. "The rest will be along." Then she sat against the wall.

"Haunting," McGonagall whispered, and Snape thought it was a perfect adjective. Gwyneth's eyes unfocused.

"Gypsy, please stop hanging on Professor Snape, I'm sure he'd rather like to use his shoulder today. Same goes for you, Gigi," Diana said.

Gypsy gave a high bell-like laugh, kissed Snape once more then settled down with her back to the side of the armchair in which Snape was sitting. Professors Vector and Sinistra hid smiles behind their hands. It was clear Snape enjoyed the childish affection, even as his jaw tightened and he turned his head away.

The fire flared emerald once more, and two boys tripped out. It was apparent from the very beginning that one arm on each boy was gone below the elbow. Dumbledore approached them, holding out his left hand for the boy without a right arm, and while this may have seemed polite, it was partially because Gigi was holding his right hand possessively. Buffy inspecting Fawkes, who was tolerating her admirably.

"James," the boy said as they shook hands. Snape could tell that he was going to be just like his older brother Corwin. The look in his eyes was the same save a spark of competitive fire that he shared with his twin brother. The two were not identical, but they certainly looked fairly alike, more like brothers than they did with Corwin. The other boy, who introduced himself as Petre when Dumbledore had finally freed his other hand, did not have the same arrogance, but rather a sense of passionate and good nature. Both of the boys showed remarkable ease and a desire to prove that they could still do exactly what they wanted to do despite their handicap. They seemed to know how some of the professors had gasped or looked away when they saw the loss. The set of their jaws showed eagerness to dispel the pity. Both of them had Beater pins next to their Hogwarts crest, probably from a successful local team. At this sight, Snape decided he would treat them exactly as he would any completely able student. He vaguely wondered how they held onto their brooms and bats at the same time. By the competitiveness in their eyes, he was sure he would eventually find out.

"Petre," Diana interjected, "you were supposed to bring Heather."

Petre shrugged and looked sheepish. "She was having one of her attacks again, and Susan deals with that better than I do."

Diana pursed her lips. "You mean she has more stomach for it." Petre grinned, but looked down.

"Attacks, Diana?" inquired Dumbledore.

"I'll explain later," she whispered, pointing at the green flames.

To girls, apparently as different in appearance as night and day, stepped carefully out of the fireplace, and the first thing everyone noticed, just as with Petre and James, was that each of them held a cane that acted as a second leg. The taller one stepped forward, leading the smaller one tenderly.

"Heather, dear, are you all right?" Diana asked, stepping forward.

She nodded, but did not speak.

The taller one, apparently Susan, said, "She just needed to compose herself. So this is Hogwarts. Reckon I can take it. Hello, I'm Susan." She held her hand out for Professor Dumbledore. Dumbledore's lips were twitching as he shook her hand.

"Welcome, Susan."

Just by the way Susan carried herself, it was easy to see her handicap was absolutely nothing to her. Under her Hogwarts robes, she wore a long skirt so that it seemed like she still had the leg but it only gave her trouble. Without the absence of a left shoe, she might have simply had a limp. She was tall and thin, but wide. She stood a good three inches higher than her mother. Her face looked as malleable as clay, and when she smile, it filled her entire face and lit up her eyes like fireworks. She was a little gawky, but also intimidating to a certain degree.

Her sister, however, was a good five inches shorter than Diana, and the loss of her right leg below the knee was as clear to her as to everyone else. She wore jeans under robes, and the right pant leg had been cut and sewn together at the stump. She clutched tightly to her own wooden cane. She had a look of strength, though, which no one had expected. Because they had been vaguely warned about her condition, they had expected a delicate, pale creature constantly needing their assistance. Heather was not delicate. She was wide, like her sister, but because of her stunted height, the weight was more evenly distributed, undulating in firm curves. She looked the very picture of health with a natural flush to her cheeks, a wide mouth and curved lips, thick wavy, honey-colored hair worn in a braid, and an upright posture. But her eyes... she shared her eyes with her sister as well, a mellow gray-green, but her eyes seemed to determine the emotion of her entire face rather than her mouth. They were large and expressive to an extreme most people never need with words. She was by no means the beauty Diana, Daphne, Gypsy, or Gwyneth were, yet there was something appealing about her, intense. Her gaze moved slowly around the room, focusing on each professor individually. She made her own assessments quietly and mysteriously, then withdrew so that she looked at everyone collectively.

As she passed him, Snape took his own observation. One thing that struck him as odd was a thin chain around her neck that ended in a carnelian. It seemed an odd gift for a young girl, and he doubted she recognized this significance. It would bring her trouble. He thought that with her condition, a chalcedony or sapphire would have been more appropriate, even topaz, if she liked the odd color. Then he noticed all the girls had a necklace with a crystal at its end. Susan herself wore a citrine, a yellow crystal that seemed to accentuate her overwhelming sense of energy and activity. Gypsy had hers hidden under her robes, but he could already guess rose quartz. Gwyneth's was likely to be jade or emerald, and Daphne's an amethyst. Diana wore nothing. Only Heather's did not fit the person he could discern on first impression. For his part, he was indifferent to the girl, still unsure enough of her magical ability to wait before deciding whether to teach her wandless magic.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, all of you," said Dumbledore. "I believe you would feel more refreshed in your rooms before dinner. However, we do have to have a formal Sorting for Petre, James, Susan, and Heather. If you would please line up next to the stool." He gestured to the three-legged stool usually used during Sortings. "Heather, you're first. Good luck."

Heather eased onto the stool and set her cane between her legs as she used her arms for balance. When she was settled, Dumbledore put the Sorting Hat on her head.

"Well, well, you're an interesting little one, aren't you?... been through the mill... but you're obviously very brave to have gotten through that, though not without consequence, eh? But you're very intelligent, talented in academics... very difficult to place... ambitious, too, my, where to put you? Not Hufflepuff, they'd smother you. Not Slytherin, you lack the deviousness and subtlety particular to their House. Not Gryffindor, you're not reckless, you just tend to get pushed into situations, you don't look for them. Ravenclaw might be best for you. There's a certain peace there which you seek, and intelligent minds that won't think twice of your disability. I'm sure they'll find many ways for you to communicate without speech or letters. Yes, you'll be most at home in RAVENCLAW!"

Heather removed the hat and gave it to Dumbledore, who smiled and pointed at Professor Flitwick, who beckoned at her excitedly next to Daphne, who gave her little sister one of her smiles.

"To tell you truly, Heather," Daphne whispered, "I had no idea where you'd be Sorted. Neither did Mum. Did the hat have difficulties?"

This time Heather did not nod, but held out her hand palm up, one of her gestures for an affirmative.

"James," Dumbledore said.

As the hat descended on the boy's head, the hat chuckled and said in the James' ear, "No question here, you remind me much of your older brother, he was easy to place... SLYTHERIN!"

James joined Corwin and Gypsy, and watched Petre as the hat screamed "HUFFLEPUFF!" before even passing his ears. Bryan clapped Petre on the back as he led his younger brother to Professor Sprout, with whom he had just renewed his acquaintance. He had always had a better relationship with Sprout than McGonagall, though he favored Transfiguration.

"Hello, Petre," Sprout said, putting an arm around Petre's shoulder. "I see you're a Beater. Care to try out for the Hufflepuff team? We need some good Quidditch players this year. We haven't won the Cup for two centuries."

Next, Susan slid onto the stool. The hat took its time with her as well.

"Hufflepuff might be good for you, young lady. You've a good work ethic. And loyalty has always been a common admirable trait in your family. However, you've got guts, and you're always ready to take a risk, so maybe you really belong in GRYFFINDOR!"

As Susan walked confidently to Professor McGonagall, Diana began laughing.

"What's so funny, Diana?" Lockhart asked, puzzled.

"I believe I've made my point finally," she said between giggles. "We've got a quad in each House. A fortunate coincidence."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "A very fortunate coincidence," he murmured softly. "And you have your first Hufflepuff of the family." He smiled at Petre. "You'll be a good addition, don't you agree, Emily?"

"I'll have to introduce him to Cedric," Sprout said excitedly. "They have compatible personalities, and Cedric can help him get onto the Quidditch team."

"Any openings on the Slytherin team?" James asked Corwin in a whisper.

"No," Snape answered. "Only on the reserves."

James pursed his lips and said coldly, "I've been playing Quidditch since I was four."

"Good for you," Snape replied indifferently, looking the other way. James was about to retort, but Corwin stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"I wouldn't press Professor Snape's temper. He doesn't like me, either." Then Corwin bent down and whispered in James' ear, "We'll see what we can do about Quidditch. But they're pretty possessive about their players staying on the team. And we're only short a Seeker on the team. I know you're good, though. We'll see. Just keep out of Professor Snape's way and try to avoid the high-horsed aristocrats. They aren't all bad, but most of them are, and they get their way."

Suddenly, Heather fell to the ground, shaking, stuffing a fist into her mouth to keep from screaming. The blood vessels in her eyes and under her skin glowed an eerie luminescent green. Her eyes reflected the pain she felt, but it also revealed resignation to this fate.

Diana cursed and ran to her daughter. Susan and Corwin joined her and grasped one of Heather's arms. Diana took hold of the severed leg and began pressing against it, twisting the skin in her hands.

"Can you feel that, Heather?" Diana asked composedly.

She shook her head, her teeth sinking into the skin of her hand and drawing blood. Snape noted the many small scars along her fingers and knuckles of her hands, implying that this attack happened often.

"Can you feel it now?"

Heather shook her head again.

"Here," cried Lockhart, "I know just the charm that will banish the pain!" He raised his wand.

"No!" Diana shouted, jumping up and batting the wand away. "Don't do anything, she has to wait it out!" She returned to her administrations with a more than startled Lockhart watching.

After a few more minutes, Heather nodded at the repeated question and her shaking decreased until she was panting for breath, her face pale but the green glow gone.

"Spells don't work," Diana explained apologetically to Lockhart. "They just prolong the attack. We've had international Healers all around the world that admit they are stumped. They don't know what to do for her, so there _is_ nothing we can do for her."

"How often do these attacks happen?" asked Flitwick in concern.

"About once a week. More, if she's anxious or stressed. For instance, she rarely leaves the house, but today she has to leave it for half a year. So she's had two attacks in one evening. She knows how to deal with them, but there is always the fear that she'll hurt herself as she falls or as she's shaking. She can't control herself during these times, nor does she feel any other pain."

"What spell--?" began Sprout curiously.

"We don't know. If we knew, we could probably counter it." Diana stroked Heather's head gently. "As it is, she'll have to find someone in her House who can hold her steady until she can stand on her own."

Heather was very embarrassed, the gentle bloom in her cheeks blossoming into fire. She hated the fact she had to show her greatest weakness to all of her professors before she had even left the room. She pushed Corwin and Susan's hands from her shoulders and reached for her cane. Concentrating on putting hand over hand, she climbed up the sturdy carved wood until she could jump onto her good leg. Diana smiled sadly. She knew her daughter wanted to prove she was okay, but everyone knew better now how much she was not. She stood back and let Heather struggle to walk for herself. She stumbled once and had to grasp the arm of a chair, but she was able to maintain a steady gait. She lowered her head in shame.

Dumbledore said softly, solemnly, "Maybe we ought to take you to the guest rooms. You can rest before our repast. I understand it can be tiring." Diana gave him a grateful smile, but Heather seemed to deflate as she nodded in response, her face closing itself to all emotion.

"I'll go with her," said Susan, "get her situated. Have our trunks arrived?"

"They should be here," Dumbledore replied.

"I'll take you there," Lockhart said, dropping Diana a cheeky wink. "It's close to my quarters anyway." He put an arm around each of their shoulders good-naturedly—he was only a little shorter than Susan and a full head taller than Heather—and led them out of the room. Heather was laboring more than she might have on a good day, but she kept up, though her chin sagged to her collarbone. The door closed behind them quietly.

"And what of the rest of you?" Sprout asked the Smythe children, breaking the silence with her contagious light-heartedness. "Would you kids like to take a tour of Hogwarts with me? Your brothers and sisters can point out the best hiding places and trick spots." Smiles lit up their faces—at least on the faces that could be said to ever smile—and Sprout led them out another way, leaving the adults to themselves.

Snape sneered, "She'll be an inconvenience."

Diana whipped around, "Do you know how long my daughter has waited to come here? Susan and Petre and James were ready at twelve, but they showed more loyalty to their sister than I would have personally never given them credit for before the incident, and you say—"

"I never said we would not take her, I said it would be an inconvenience," Snape interrupted. "I was not aware she had an odd Cruciatus strain extension. I've never seen anything like it. But can you imagine if it happened in a boat on the lake, in the Forbidden Forest, on a balcony, on the stairs... in front of a fire? The girl is an accident waiting to happen."

"She knows how to deal with her problems," Diana said coldly, "which is more than I can say for—"

Dumbledore held up a hand. Diana broke off in the midst of her insult and turned to him.

"Severus is right in that respect," Dumbledore conceded, "however, he is willing to work with the girl on wandless magic and will no doubt find that Heather is more than capable with her ailments."

McGonagall sat in Sprout's empty chair. "We were never given the details of the incident. How long has it been that they were... er..."

"Cursed?" Diana finished. "About five years. The others have adapted much better to the disfigurement, but Heather has had it rough. The children sleep in another wing of the house, and Lionel, my... well... Lionel and I were in the opposite wing. We had no idea what was going on until Daphne roused us. It turns out that because of Lionel's work with Aurors, rogue Death Eaters targeted him and happened into the children's wing. The newspaper said it was the work of copycats, and the reports said as much, but Lionel and I and the quads saw them, and the only Death Eaters that would look more like Death Eaters than they would be the Death Eaters themselves. Their appearance, their manner, their style, everything fit. But no one wanted to believe there were still dangerous criminals connected with the Dark Lord still at large.

"But these _were_ Death Eaters, make no mistake. And they stumbled into Heather and Susan's room first. They looked more alike then. Heather is a very light sleeper generally, and even their spells could not muffle all their noise. They woke her up, and she sat up in bed. That was when they started to curse her." Diana's voice caught. "She was only nine. Susan, though she is a much heavier sleeper, could not ignore Heather's... screams... and James and Petre ran in to see what was the matter, and they began to curse them, too. Then they thought it would be a laugh because they were quads—it was much more obvious at the time, believe me—to mirror their losses, then prevent the application of healing spells or prosthetics. The pain of the cure was far too great. So they all got hit, Heather most of all, because they had her to... experiment on... she kept quiet for too long. I came in later because of Daphne's alert, followed by Lionel. But they hit me with a curse before Lionel managed to activate some of the more violent enforcement wards around our manor."

"What was the curse?" Snape asked.

"Just Sanguinus. It wasn't too bad. Not like the Curse of Fertility that hit me sixteen years ago. I was on a battle field when one of the wounded cast it on me. The quads technically aren't quads. They were each conceived a day apart. It was only until the Curse was explained to me that I stopped... having intercourse. I can't have sex without conception. It's very frustrating, as you can see. I've had three other kids after the quads. But I've learned to count my blessings, and Lionel is very accommodating."

"I'm sure he is," Snape murmured under his breath.

McGonagall hid a smirk.

"And we still don't know why Heather won't talk," Diana concluded. "We've tried everything."

Snape's head snapped up. "Excuse me," he said softly, a sure sign he was bemused. "Won't talk? Was not her silence the result of a curse?"

Diana shook her head. "She has had test after test done on her, and still they can't find any trace of a silencing hex, not even one of the obscure curses. Nothing. So we can only assume that something happened during the incident that has induced her silence. She won't even use the same hand gestures if she thinks you're growing used to them. She has about twenty different ways to say 'yes.' She'll often just nod her head, but once you start asking her just yes or no questions, she will stop communicating in that form completely. Then you have to find her new form. The best chance you will have getting any long bit of information about her is in her essays. She'll write about the topic, but she'll add anecdotal or personal bits of information that shows what she is thinking. If you want her to tell you something, you've got to blanket it in an essay question. She has always avoided telling about why she is quiet, but she will talk about anything else. However, don't tell her to write an essay specifically about herself unless you give everyone else the same assignment and it makes sense to the curriculum. Otherwise she will refuse, whether or not the writing is for a grade."

Snape stood up and stared Diana straight in the eyes. "So, let me see if I understand this: She can talk, but she won't. And if a form of communication becomes convenient, she won't use it."

"Correct."

"I'll not cosset her. I won't ask yes or no questions just to search for her answer. If she can speak, she will. The handicap is nothing. If this is a conscious decision, I will not humor it." Snape prepared himself for a woman's wrath. He had braved much worse.

"How dare you!" shouted Diana, as Snape had predicted. "Do you know how frustrating not speaking is to her? You can see everything in her eyes, everything. It kills her when she needs to say something and cannot use an easy form of interaction. Something happened to her, Severus! Something happened to her mentally that silenced her! She was nine years old, and she was assaulted by the Dark Lord's closest servants. You expect her to be normal? Something happened! I ask you to respect that. She'll speak when she is ready. As long as she is not, you _will_ respect her silence. If not, I'll hear of it."

"I will not humor her. I will treat her as I do everyone else," Snape said calmly, a glint of amusement in his black eyes. "I will not make this easy for her, Diana. Not everyone will make life easy for your precious child. Not everyone will accept her excuses. It may as start with me. I will be teaching your girl wandless magic, and I ask you: how many wizards or witches in this world of wands are qualified to mold volatile, untamed magic? Do not challenge my methods."

Diana was still furious, but nevertheless saw his wisdom. She had heard rumors of Severus Snape's previous loyalties, but she had full confidence in Dumbledore. If Dumbledore trusted him completely then Severus knew both what Heather had gone through, and possibly how to remove her from her mental rut. She worried about her daughter in the albeit capable hands of someone so callous, but if it was the price of giving Heather what she needed, a controlled outlet for her magic, she knew Heather was willing to pay. She only hoped Severus would not be too difficult for the girl.

"Alright," Diana said finally, voice tight in repressed anger. "But if you go beyond your authority, of that I will hear and act accordingly."

Snape nodded curtly. "Agreed."

Meanwhile, Lockhart was leading Susan and Heather to their rooms.

"Your trunks should already be there," he explained. "The house-elves are so convenient in such a large castle, don't you agree?"

Susan looked behind Lockhart's head at Heather. In her peripheral vision, Heather saw the movement and returned the gaze. Susan winked. Lockhart had not stopped talking since they had left Dumbledore's office, and though he asked several questions on the way, he seemed content to answer them himself. Susan had barely been able to get a few words in. Heather grinned, the pallor of her face after the attack settling back into its usual rosy hue.

Heather would have never admitted it to anyone, but she always enjoyed it when someone else offered a literal shoulder to lean on without asking for permission. If Lockhart had asked if she wanted help, she would have rejected the proffered support, but since he had not, she had someone to take a fraction of her weight on her right side, therefore freeing her left leg a bit. And he was warm; her attacks tended to leave her cold. Only the proximity to a person she did not know bothered her.

She could not remember the last time she met someone she did not know. She quite truly rarely left the manor. Even then, she would go to certain places at certain times where she knew the people. For instance, one of the shops she always accompanied her mother to was the town bakery at five o' clock in the morning every Tuesday. The baker called himself Jacques, which was absolutely hilarious because his family had moved from Northern Ireland to England the previous generation, and they had no French relatives to speak of. His accent was atrocious. The first time the baker saw her at three, he had loved her like a niece. He had gone silent himself after the attack, but gradually he learned to master the lump that came to his throat at such a little girl ravaged by curses and treated her like he had before. Heather loved his pumpkin scones during the colder months and his lemon pastries during the warm seasons. However, the bakery was a regular occurrence. She had gone to the cinema or the West End maybe once or twice when Diana had desperately wanted her to be around other people. Heather hated it when people looked at her leg—rather the place where her leg had been.

"Well, here we are!" Lockhart said cheerfully. He released Susan and Heather from his half embrace and wrapped his fingers around a polished brass knob. "Welcome to your temporary home."

The rooms were exquisite and far richer than anyone would have expected for a guest room. Grand red and gold tapestries hung on the walls and contrasted with the dark wood floor warmed with Persian rugs. The first room was a living area, lavish with rococo sofas and chairs in front of a fireplace large enough for the entire Smythe family to stand in. From the living area extended two elaborate stairways embellished with brass rails that led to a loft presenting three doors similar to the one through which they had just walked. On the first floor, to the left was another door, this one ajar, leading to the bathroom.

"If you'd like to freshen up, feel free," Lockhart said, pointing to the open door. "And if you'd prefer to rest, the bedrooms are up those stairs. They're dormitory style, so there should be enough beds."

"Thank you very much," Susan said graciously. When she spoke, she was just as loud as Lockhart. It was astonishing to hear such a full voice from such a thin frame. She headed unashamedly toward the bathroom.

"I'm taking a soak," she called behind her. "Would you like one when I'm finished?"

Susan was not looking at her, so Heather thumped her cane to the floor twice, indicating the negative.

Susan doubled back in surprise. "You always take a soak after an attack. It helps."

Heather gave an emphatic look at Lockhart then thumped her cane twice again.

Susan smiled. Her sister was so modest it was almost humorous. Imagine not even wanting to talk about taking a soak in front of someone, who cares if it's a teacher. "Fine then." She directed the next sentence to Lockhart. "Again, thank you very much. What time is dinner?"

"Eight," Lockhart answered. "Be as late as you want. Until the rest of the students come, dinner is an informal affair. Everyone eats at the High Table. I'll see you there."

Susan grinned at him then headed into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

"Well, Heather, I hope you enjoy your quarters. We'll see you at dinner then." He gave her a warm smile and put a hand on the small of her back, pushing her gently into the room. His fingers trailed gently down her buttock as he withdrew, but that could have been an accident. He let himself out of the quarters, smiling a farewell with his perfect teeth.

Heather slumped slightly then walked to one of the sofas and lay down, setting her cane on the floor. Her stump throbbed softly.

For the umpteenth time, she wondered whether this had been a good idea.

**Author notes:** Please read and review. I'm not going to update this fic very quickly, so please specify if you'd like me to owl or email you when the next chapter is up.


End file.
